Dragon's Rise

by Lou Hoffmann

  Jaffy was assigned to accompany him where he went, answer questions if he could, fetch anything Lucky might need or help him get it for himself, and just be company. And surprisingly good company he was. Lucky had never spent time around younger children, and his friendship with Jaffy took on a brotherly flavor. Although the younger boy was supposed to be helping him, he had a zillion and one questions for Lucky—Lucky’s life history fascinated Jaffy. The best moment for Lucky was when Jaffy started calling him “Sir Lucky.” Though most of Lucky’s day was spent on the business of learning, during in-between times the two of them enjoyed some playful moments.

  “Hey,” Jaffy said after they left the weavers’ hall. He pulled a set of small sticks and pebbles out of his pocket and added two wooden balls to the collection. “Let’s play a game of gather-all!” He taught Lucky the few rules and demonstrated his prowess at the game—which was something like pick-up sticks and something like jacks—beating Lucky hands down three games in a row before it was time to go on to Lucky’s next assigned activity—the shaping shrine.

  Lucky had found the weavers’ work, done on several types of looms, almost hypnotic to watch. The men and women moved with such grace and precision it seemed impossible, feet and hands working repeatedly through sets of movements that resulted in row after row filled with subtle shadings and intricate patterns. For a time, he followed one weaver’s eyes, trying to see how they kept track of everything at once, but he couldn’t solve it. The skill it took to make beautiful fabrics, rugs, and tapestries astounded him, and he said so.

  “You’re not alone, admiring our work,” the lead weaver said. “These goods are sold all over the Sunlands and even exported to West Haven and East March. At another shop with special looms, we make winter wear that fetches a high price in the north. We rarely speak of the secret of weaving with such consistent quality, but I will tell you. Each of our weavers is expert in tracking the motions of energy, the flow of life, and they tune their work to harmonize with it. That enables them to work smoothly and quickly and weave the most beautiful cloth in the world—or at least we think so.”

  Lucky couldn’t disagree. Oddly, although he knew he had nowhere near the level of skill in any activity that the weavers had in their craft, he didn’t leave the workshop feeling inadequate. Rather, he felt like he’d been given a gift, and he felt certain he’d someday know how to utilize it.

  “Thank you, all of you,” he said loud enough for everyone to hear just before he left. Although nobody stopped their work or even missed a beat in their rhythmic pull of the threads, he felt their approval, and it made him smile.

  After he and Jaffy rested, refreshed themselves with cups of cold milk, and finished their game of gather-all, he was anxious to see what else he might learn. The shaping shrine was no disappointment, in that respect. But it was a bit of a shock.

  From the outside, the shrine looked like a very low structure with curved walls coming to a point at the top, kind of like one end of a football, slightly offset so that it seemed to lean back into the half circle of towering sehldars behind it. Judging from what he could see, he expected a tiny, crowded space inside, and even though he didn’t think he was claustrophobic, the idea made him nervous. But when Jaffy pulled the handles of the twin carved-stone doors, they opened onto a bright space with sunlight streaming in through numerous clever openings invisible from outside.

  Lucky stepped inside and instantly felt stripped. Ciarrah went completely quiet, and the moment Lucky felt the lack of her presence was the first moment he ever realized he’d felt it constantly since their bond. The Key sent a burst of warmth that trickled through him and then faded into a quiescence so complete Lucky could no longer feel the weight of it hanging from its chain around his neck. It occurred to him that perhaps he should feel alarmed, but he didn’t. Some other feeling, some other harmony, took the place of any bit of magic he normally possessed, and it was a good feeling, a clean one. It wasn’t that his magic was bad or evil or unhealthy, but it was, he now understood, a burden at least as much as it was a boon. And for the moment, he could be free of it, yet completely safe. That was okay.

  Just inside the doors, a staircase began, and it followed the curve of the walls, expanding wider and wider as it led down. Even below, in the wide circular space at the bottom of the stairs, new streams of sunlight and fresh air entered, piped in from above to just a few feet above the floor.

  A lot of people sat on cushions on the gleaming floor there, but the expansive chamber had enough unexpected room that Lucky had no sense of crowding at all. Instead, as he followed Jaffy across the room via a meandering path set in contrasting parquet squares, his sense of adventure kicked in. Numerous small plantings grew up from places in the floor, and at first between them and the people sitting quietly among them, the whole place seemed to be in pleasing but riotous disarray. Yet as he walked along—a journey of minutes as satisfying as an hour’s walk in the woods—Lucky came to sense, though not see, a pattern.

  They arrived at a niche cut into the wall where three individuals sat quietly observing the space. The woman in the center of the trio smiled broadly when she saw Jaffy, and he stepped up quickly for an enthusiastic hug, which seemed to amuse the two people flanking her, though they barely smiled and didn’t divert their attention from whatever it was they were doing.

  Holding the woman’s hand, Jaffy turned to Lucky. “This is my Aunt Kahnalee.” He turned back to her. “This is Luccan. He’s the Suth Chiell—that’s what Thurlock told Almirah, and she said it’s true. I’m not sure what Suth Chiell is, but we’re supposed to help him out because he can’t do anything except magic.”

  Kahnalee laughed quietly and hugged the boy again, then turned to welcome Lucky in a voice deeper in timbre than expected, and just above a whisper. “We’re very glad you’ve come, young man. Unlike Jaffy who sometimes doesn’t pay enough attention during readings—though he’s a very wonderful boy—I do know what Suth Chiell is, and I’m happy you’ve arrived.”

  “He says we can call him Sir Lucky.”

  “Uh, well, Jaffy is certainly welcome to call me that, but—”

  “I’ll just call you by your name, Luccan, shall I?”

  “Fine. And just for the record, I can do a few things other than magic, and I’m really not very good at magic at all.”

  “That’s as well as it can be. I understand from the histories that generally the Suth Chiell commands a brand of magic unlike that commonly performed in Ethra—different in nature and degree. I think that kind of link to magic is less likely to interfere with what we of the Simple Way can show you. And what we can show you might be of great use. At least we hope so, and from what the Lady Almirah said, that is also the hope of your wizard and our friend, Thurlock. Shall we begin?”

  Lucky agreed, anxious to understand just what was going on, hoping that the pattern he sensed could become clear to him, because he understood that somehow it was vital, and he expected it to be beautiful too.

  “Wander the shrine—no need to stick to the pathways—until you find a place to sit. You will know when you’ve found the right place, trust me. Don’t question your senses! Once you’ve done that, just let go of any need to direct your thinking or solve problems. You may come any time to speak with me or one of my companions here, but if you feel no need to do so, that is fine as well.”

  Lucky smiled and nodded, which seemed a sufficient reply. When he turned to begin his walk through the shrine, he realized Jaffy wasn’t at his side. He spotted the boy, seated like the others, near a flowering plant that leaned over him as if in friendship. With a deep breath, Lucky stepped out to begin his walk, following some previously unknown instinct as to where to put down his foot, and where to follow with the next.

  Time, Lucky soon realized, did not exist in the shrine except in the sense of the turning of the planet, and the rising, traveling, and sinking of sun, moon, and stars. The peace that accompanied the release from counted time went bone-deep,
and with it came a kind of wakeful sleep through which dreams drifted and passed on, unclaimed, unimportant. Deeper in, Lucky began to sense the waves of energy he’d identified using the Sight, but they took on a different feel, perhaps a different meaning. A small corner of his mind wondered at the odd notion that this sensing, this knowing, came not through any of the five ordinary senses, and not through his magical ones either, as they’d been checked at the door. So how did he sense the energy? How did he know it? Almost, it felt like remembering.

  That wonderment soon fell away along with any need to figure it out as he drifted into the streams of energy, the life that made its home in him reaching out and linking, like a thousand hands joining, like linked voices singing a thousand melodies that all fit together to make a sublime harmony. All the while, Lucky remained aware that he was watching something being done, a work of creation going on all around him. More and more, whatever part of his mind was active—some part between the conscious and subconscious—tuned itself to the working. Finally he thought he glimpsed the pattern he’d known was there for the finding when he first walked through the shrine.

  When he turned his attention to it, it disappeared, and Lucky understood it constantly changed—it was made of uncountable patterns, none of them static. Some energy streams simply came in and departed, having been observed but not changed. Others came in broken, were attended to by the intention of those sitting their shift in the shrine, and then made their way back out into the world. After a time, Lucky recognized a single pattern that came in vividly bright with health and life. With what must be conscious, deliberate care, the shapers turned it outward to creep along the ley lines and their tributaries and branches, and then out into the life at the core of Nedhra City. He wanted to lend himself to that effort to heal the city, tried to impose himself upon it, but his mind’s energy was silently rebuffed.

  He didn’t sense time passing as he observed what happened in the shaping shrine, and after a while he even began to lose his sense of himself as an individual. He might have slept, but when Kahnalee stood by him with Jaffy at her side and touched Lucky’s shoulder, it was less like awakening than like returning suddenly from someplace far away. It was also like amnesia, because at first, if someone would have asked him his name, he wouldn’t have had an answer. But he knew Jaffy, even though the boy seemed to shine a little brighter than before.

  “You liked the shaping shrine, didn’t you, Sir Lucky? It’s my favorite. When I’m grown up and done with school and stuff, I can be a shaper here every day, can’t I, Aunt Kahna?” He tugged on her hand and leaned against Lucky at the same time.

  She laughed as they started to climb the long spiral stairs. “Yes, Jaffy, you can, if that’s what you want when the time comes. You’re already pretty good at the job.”

  “And Sir Lucky—he could be a shaper too, couldn’t he?”

  Kahnalee directed a keen, appraising look at Lucky before nodding. “I daresay he could, Jaffy, if what we saw today is any indicator. Unfortunately, he is to be Suth Chiell, and he has many other things to do. The Simple Way is not for him, at least not for a very long time.”

  LUCKY SPENT the midday meal in the company of Jaffy, Almirah, and Kahnalee, at the home the two women shared as a couple—which deepened the mystery Lucky had perceived around the affection between Thurlock and Almirah. Conversation was pleasant and light and didn’t touch on where Lucky had been, what he had done, or what he had learned—except that Jaffy did go out of his way to let him know he shouldn’t worry about his lack of skill at gather-all because, “After all,” Jaffy said, “I’ve been playing this since I was little.”

  Almirah and Kahnalee included Lucky in the aren’t-children-funny look they shared, which was a nice feeling. He’d recently spent so much time around men whose ages exceeded centuries, he’d begun to feel like he was the child. It wasn’t true, though, he realized, and somehow that switched his self-confidence into a different gear. Not more confidence, per se, but another kind of confidence.

  Just as they finished their meal of rich soup, crusty bread spread thickly with soft cheese, and cut melon, a tall man with the thick, corded muscles that come from working hard every day came in without knocking, trailed by a half dozen teen boys.

  “Ah! Arnohk!” Almirah smiled and gave the newcomer a quick embrace. “You’re in time to meet Luccan. Luccan, this is my brother—my twin—Arnohk. These young men work with him in the forge. If we have time before Thurlock returns, I’ll have you spend some time there. It might be interesting for you to see how we can work in harmony with the life force even for something as rough as shaping metal into tools and weapons.”

  “That, sister, is a great idea. And, Luccan, I say that not just because of all that noise about the life force but because it never hurts for a leader to know a little about a lot of things that the people he’s responsible for might do.”

  “And,” said the handsomest of the boys, grinning, “we have a lot of fun at the forge too.”

  Arnohk laughed—a booming sound from deep in his broad chest. “That we do, Loyahl. That we certainly do.”

  The midday break was longer than Lucky expected, and before he returned to his scheduled activities, he had time to play a couple of games with the young men and Jaffy—one of gather-all to please the boy, and one of Skies, which Lucky won with K’ormahk, King of Skies, which happened more often than not, these days.

  The greenhouses were busy that afternoon, and Lucky was expected to work. As he did, those working alongside him explained the plants were fed not only water and soil nutrients, but also with a flow of life energy directed from the shaping shrine. The plants—everything from fruits to flowers to seedling trees—thrived, fairly pulsing with life, and being in their company strengthened Lucky. By the time his shift was near its end, he felt pleasantly tired, physically, but absolutely refreshed in spirit.

  Perhaps that was fortunate, because as he and the other workers were cleaning up their tools, an alarm sounded that brought all the Followers to the clearing outside the shaping shrine. Almirah, her tears doing nothing to reduce the power of her voice as she addressed the frightened crowd, informed the Followers of news that seemed to shake them all to the foundation of their faith.

  The most adventurous of the Followers became “Travelers,” newsgatherers and traders who interacted with the people of the city at large, and even people in distant places. They also served as scouts for any trouble that could affect their home district, and the news they’d brought late that afternoon was the worst anyone had heard for many years.

  “As many of you know, we’ve been aware of a disturbance in some of the energy flows for some months, and we’ve thought that gradually it may have been worsening. Two of our travelers arrived today with news of a foul energy emanating from one certain place in the city that could spell calamity for us, particularly if it reaches the shaping shrine. Kahnalee and several elders surveyed the area lying outside our district on all sides, and found this corrupted life stream within an hour’s walk from our district. Possibly because we deliberately draw in force that needs repair, it is on a course that will bring it directly to the shrine, moving at a pace that puts it perhaps a half day away.”

  A babble started up among the people, though Lucky thought they remained remarkably calm overall, if this “corrupted energy” truly spelled such disaster.

  “We didn’t sound the alarm to frighten you, but rather to inform you. I will allow Kahnalee to address what can be done to keep our homes and families safe.”

  Kahnalee climbed up on the rock beside Almirah and offered her partner a small, comforting smile before turning to the gathered crowd. “The steps to keep us safe are simple, and in truth you are all aware. We will stop drawing energy from outside the district at the shaping shrine. Our own industries will be short-rationed for energy streams for the time being, because we will continue to send some energy outward into the troubled parts of the city. Not only do we depend on the relativ
e health of the city to maintain our own healthy land, but we have always, for the hundreds of years we’ve abided here, taken it as our duty to care for those outside our community in this way, as much as we can. That means you all are asked to take special care with your own intake and emanations, and to conserve. We hope it won’t be for long.”

  She stepped down, and Lucky looked around. Most of the people attending nodded and took deep breaths, perhaps not happy, but resigned to do the best they could. A few people looked like they wanted to grumble a bit, but their discontent was almost lost in the general accord.

  A man in rough leather clothing, the first person Lucky had seen wearing weapons since he’d come to the Followers, stepped up to take Kahnalee’s place on the podium rock. “To follow on what shaper Kahnalee said, one thing we will not do, is try to move any energy in direct opposition to the blackened line. It’s too strong, and we can’t resist either an attachment or a backlash. Nevertheless, we can’t just leave things as they are—I’m sure most of you already know that. We’ll be meeting to try to determine how to respond. We’ll have a brainstorming session, and if you believe you have the necessary understanding of the greater concepts in play, you are welcome. After that, we’ll have a hearing for anyone to speak about our decisions if we’ve made them, or the choices available if we have not.”

  After Almirah offered a few more words to reassure the people, the crowd dispersed. Lucky stood dumbfounded, left completely alone. After no one came for him, he found his way back to his room. With nothing to occupy his time—except worry, which he didn’t want to do—he ate some of the food he found in a corner cupboard and then lay down to rest.